


Fourth of July

by A_Pining_Pineapple



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Broken Promises, Fluff & Angst, Ghosts, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Reminiscing, Running Away, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13464723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Pining_Pineapple/pseuds/A_Pining_Pineapple
Summary: After the events that transpired in the sewers, Richie Tozier is surprised to find himself talking one last time with Eddie Kaspbrak. In the conversation, Eddie reminisces about the two times he sees Richie cry and the third he just misses.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This fic is inspired by a Sufjan Stevens song called "Fourth of July". Check it out if you want to, but make sure to bring a tissue or two!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After lamenting about his lifelong struggles, Richie finds himself talking to the ghost of Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie was bad at keeping promises. He couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast every morning once he's eaten it, so how could he remember the vows he makes? Goddammit. He's just making excuses. His closest friends, every single one of them, had told him time and time again how persistent he can be once something or someone sparks his passion. It's rather embarrassing that the person he was most passionate about, the one he made his most sincere promise to, was gone because of him.                                                   

And it's not like he didn't try! Well, maybe he didn't for some time, but that's not the point. What amounted to what happened was his stupidity, how pathetic he was. His forgetfulness. Looking back at it, Richie couldn't believe how stubborn he was to have let what happened happen.

If he could turn back time, he would.

If he could recreate the universe, he would want this person to be by his side forever.

If he could raise anyone from the dead, it would be Eddie Kaspbrak, the walking paradox that Richie had felt lucky to have gotten to know. The man was an enigma, even in his youth. Eddie’s frail demeanor did not match the witty, albeit snappy personality he had. Richie wanted him back, and he would be the first person he would save in a heartbeat. He knew he couldn't though.

It was the thought of that, the break through the denial he was constrained in that broke Richie.

_He's dead cause of me._

In the only hotel at Derry, surrounded by paint on the walls that was peeling and on a mattress seemingly made out of stone, Richie began to cry. After the events that transpired just hours ago ending in a tearful goodbye to his dying friend, he couldn't help but cry. He couldn't help but try childishly to hide from the despair by crawling under the covers. Richie started trembling, at a loss for words. This wasn't fair.

Eddie didn't deserve this. If anything, it should have been Richie. It was all his fault.

He couldn't help feeling numb. His once hyper demeanor vanished, replaced by dormant, gangly limbs and his head hung low, the thick curls on his head covering his shame. The only thing he could feel at this point were the tears flowing down his cheek, hitting the thin blankets that covered him.

And then, for a split second, he couldn't feel _anything_.

Peculiar about the change, Richie lifted up the covers to be met with pitch black. The only thing he could see was the blanket covering him, and the bed he was laying on. Other than that, there was apparently nothing.

Richie didn't know where he was, so he did what he always did in a crisis: talk.

"Is this some kind of sick prank? Where the hell am I?"

"You're at the hotel room still, dipshit," a familiar voice responded, shocking Richie, "I just wanted to talk."

A small man emerged from the darkness, the stump on his right arm having disappeared. He looked good as new, but something was off. He didn't seem alive. Everything the man did was premeditated. The careful steps. The pristine smile. There wasn't a sense of uncertainty or humanity. It was peace, and it wasn't lively, but it was still the man Richie knew and loved, and he was astounded.

All he could do was choke out, "Eddie…"

The man came up to sit beside Richie, "You're right. It's me. Don't shit your pants."

"I wasn't planning on it. Jesus, how the hell did you get here?"

"I wanted to see it for a third and final time. What you just did. You just… sorry for sounding so corny, but you look so pretty when you do it."

Confusion and a blush struck across Richie's face, "Do what?"

"Cry. I only saw it twice, you know, and I felt cheated to have missed out on a third and final time."

"What's so special about me crying though? What made you feel so compelled to fly out of your body just to witness it?"

"I… I don't know. I just remember before… you know. When I was bleeding out, you were looking at me so tenderly, trying to make me as comfortable as possible. I remember seeing the tears welling up in your eyes and thinking 'I need to see this. The raw, real Richie' because I always stopped you the other two times. I wanted you to let it out, and for you to be unafraid in expressing those emotions. I wanted to comfort you, but I couldn't.”

"You care about me that much Eds?"

"Even in death, I don't get the respect I deserve. Don't call me that."

"Sorry Eddie, but really. You care that much?"

"I guess I do. Even through all of the talking you do, I can't help but care.”

The two shared a much needed moment of silence together. They gazed out at the darkness surrounding them, but it didn’t scare them. They had to soak in that this was happening. Somehow, through some string of fate, they were here talking. It seemed impossible, a soul that should have departed was stuck in the living world. Richie was not sure how to comfort his friend, but he held himself back from touching Eddie, for he was afraid he would fuck something up. He instead decided to let the moment pass, and let the silence be broken by the other man.

“I don’t get it though.”

"I don't think there should be anything in particular that's hard to get. What's up Eddie?"

"Why do you cry for me? All those three times? I never understood. Why me?"

Richie didn't understand. Why did Eddie not get it? He was in the dark, both literally and mentally, “Why are you asking a question as… weird as that?”

Eddie broke eye contact, an embarrassed expression on his face, “I think it’s because I need to know. Thinking about it, I should be anywhere but here. I know I’m dead. You don’t need to avoid that. However, what we need to talk about is this burning question. There’s a part in me, deep, deep down that needs this question answered. Please, Richie. Please let me know. Why do you cry?”

In that moment, Richie wanted to be the light. He wanted to save the spirit of the man he loved. His tears, they were meaningful all three times. It had a purpose. He was opening up for a reason, and it was never a show. Richie wanted to be a gleaming pedestal, hoping to bring Eddie out of the darkness he was encased in. Maybe by giving Eddie an understanding of his perspective, his final moments on this world would be fulfilling. He wanted to save him by being a lantern, or a lighthouse, or like the sky on the Fourth of July, but first he needed a place to start.

"Can you tell me what you thought happened during those three times?” Richie asked.

Eddie gazed at him, a tremble in his lip, “I was hoping you would ask that.”

 ----

**_The evil, it spread like a fever ahead._ **

**_It was night when you died, my firefly._ **

**_What could I have said to raise you from the dead?_ **

**_Oh, could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?_ **

****

**_“Well, you do enough talk_ **

**_My little hawk, why do you cry?_ **

**_Tell me, what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?_ **

**_Or the Fourth of July?_ **

**_We’re all gonna die.”_ **

 


	2. The First Time: Junior High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie recounts what happened at the hospital after he broke his arm while Richie has trouble explaining why he cried the first time.

The first time Eddie saw Richie cry was when he visited him at the hospital after the scuffle at the Neibolt house.

Eddie was stuck in the hospital after he had fallen from the second story of the house and broke his arm, legs covered in drool from the insidious clown that had caressed the frightened boy with their talon-like hands. The whole ordeal was insane. To Eddie, it was a blurry chain of events.

The first thing he could recall was muffled screaming. In reality, it was the other Losers yelling at Eddie, begging him to get out of his petrified state.

However, the sad thing was that Eddie didn't wake up from it until Richie told him, "I'm going to snap your arm back into place!"

To which he understandably replied, "DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME."

 _Crack_. It happened anyway, what a shame.

The next thing Eddie remembers is being wheeled on the cart of Mike Hanlon's bike to his mother's house. The Loser's Club escorted him to his house, and after a slight hesitation, Eddie made three small knocks in unison. It was a secret code between his mother and him to signal that it was Eddie that had come home, not some crook coming to steal god-knows-what. After what happened, he and his friends knew there was no way they could hide, and that they would have to face the consequences.

Once she opened the door, Eddie could see that Sonia Kaspbrak was appalled, maybe even _disgusted_ at what happened to him. Although she couldn't see the drool or the scratch marks from the clown, what she could one-hundred percent see was that her son's right arm was twisted, mangled, destroyed, _harmed_.

Time and time again, Eddie could almost read the mind of his mother. The last thing Sonia wanted her son to experience was _harm_. She couldn't bare it. Look at what his wicked, troublesome friends had done to her son! It was through this thought that Sonia Kaspbrak decided to drag Eddie into her car, yelling at his friends to not even be a mile away from him or else she will find them and give her a piece of her mind. His mother slammed on the accelerator, and Eddie turned to see his friends, their expressions unreadable. Eddie cried on the way to the hospital, thinking that this was the last time he would see their faces.

Luckily, he was wrong.

//

Three days later, Eddie was sitting idly on the bed in a rather bland hospital room. These past few days were just a repetitive chain of events.

Wake up. Eat. Talk with Mom. Sleep. Repeat.

Usually the hospital wing was quiet, but there were sudden shrieks that Eddie heard from outside his room.

"Finally, something different," Eddie mumbled. He readied himself, trying to make sense of the clatter and conversation going on in the hallway.

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THAT!"

Oh shit, that's not good. This first voice was booming and intimidating. Eddie took up a guarded position. He then heard another voice.

"Sir! You do know that many of the patients need rest, and running around is not going to give them that. And you're carrying so much stuff. Do you need help?"

Sure, the second voice was calmer and maybe even soothing, but Eddie deciphered those words. _Running?_ The person could crash into his bed and he could be sent flying about a hundred miles an hour, making a hole in the hospital room and sending him tumbling down into the town's road below. _Carrying_? They could be carrying a million diseases in whatever nasty thing they were holding onto. Eddie felt ill, unprepared. He was anxious. Then he heard a final voice, trying to impersonate some cardboard cut-out of name-an-actor with a six pack.

"Sorry, hot stuff, I would love to stay and chat, but there's a lady I've got to save."

Ah yes. This third and final voice was shrill, annoying, and zipping in all tones and directions. It was the perfect voice for Eddie to resign his guarded position and instead prop himself up, ready to see his best friend.

Richie Tozier arrived, bouquet in hand, and looked at Eddie. He didn't flash a smirk, or did one of those god-awful finger guns at him. Instead, he gave a warm, genuine smile to him. Eddie blushed, and then he ruined the moment.

"You asshole! You think you can come here without sending a letter of apology for doing literally the only thing I can remember? Why are you here without the rest of the gang? Didn't you hear what my Mom said? You're definitely not a mile away. Hell, even ten feet! I can't-"

"Whoa whoa, easy there Eds. I can-"

"Do _not_ call me that!" Eddie puffed his cheeks and folded his arms. He couldn't believe it. Even in times of great strife, they still managed to bicker and cut each other off all of the time.

"Sorry, Eddie. Anyway, like I was saying until you rudely cut me off… I can explain both questions you asked before _I_ rudely cut you off."

Pause.

"Okay, let's hear it."

Another pause.

"One and two," Richie began, "The Losers are all here. They're just… creating a diversion after what your mother said to us."

"So what you're telling me is-"

"Ah ah ah! Not so fast! We're having an explanation here, not an argument. Just let me talk," Richie continued, making his way to sit on the edge of Eddie's bed. "Anyway, yes. We are being stupid kids doing stupid things to let us see our stupid friend who got his arm broken over the stupidest thing."

Richie plopped down on Eddie's bed and curled up in a ball, facing Eddie with his utmost attention, "We missed you Eddie. I missed you! Do you think we would let your mother cut us off like that? No! We stick together, no matter what."

Richie directed Eddie's attention to the flowers he was holding, "I got this from the flower shop down the road. The last time I was at the hospital, it was boring as fuck. So here, have this and put it at the stand next to your bed. It'll at least make this hellhole smell a tad bit better than shit and disease."

Eddie scoffed and took it, placing it in on his stand, smiling, "You know, that was a heartfelt speech and all, but you kinda ruined it with the last line. I admire the effort though, Trashmouth."

This got an embarrassed reaction from his best friend, for he broke eye contact and looked at the floor, covering the timid look on his face.

“I practiced that the last three days since I haven't seen you. Look, I even had a script written with cues for moving," Richie took out a crumpled index card with scribbled writing along each crevice and margin, "Didn't follow it though, but yeah. Effort was there."

Silence.

Eddie didn't know how to respond, so he tried to steer the conversation another way, “Uh so, uh. Hm… Why didn't you help out the squad with the 'diversion'? Why is it just you here?"

Somehow whatever he said triggered something in Richie. His body language conveyed defense, and even the usual playful tone in his voice turned grim, "I-is it bad that it's just me? It’s because of what you said earlier. Way, way earlier. I wanted to apologize. Truly."

Eddie blinked incredulously, "Wait. The fuck. For what?"

"Everything,” Richie mumbled, just loud enough for Eddie to make out his words, “I thought I almost lost you. I was so worried. I'm sorry that I couldn't do much for you other than trying to snap your arm back into place. It must've hurt like a bitch, and I didn't want to hurt you. I was just trying to help. I'm sorry Eds."

"Don't call me that."

"It's a habit. I'm sorry… Wait. Didn't you hear anything else I said?" Eddie noticed Richie's voice starting to strain, his eyes becoming more vulnerable. This was a side of Richie he never saw before, and he didn't know how to take it. With his thoughts growing louder, he couldn't think of anything to say. His mind was speaking too loudly.

Silence.

"What? Why aren't you gonna say anything? Do you just want me to make a joke out of this shit you're going through?"

"It's better than you being quiet. It scares me,” Eddie then saw what he thought was the impossible, “Oh shit. No way."

Richie's eyelids were glistening, his eyes growing weary and his voice faltered, "No way what?"

"Oh my god do you realize-"

"Realize what? That my face is too up close and personal for you?"

"No no no! Not that!" Eddie stammered, "Richie... you're tearing up."

And by God he was. Eddie remembered when Richie told him one night in the quarry about how he keeps his emotions under control. People's laughter over his jokes was what shrouded the foreboding feeling his best friend always had. Something that Eddie recalled Richie couldn't quite name. Holy fuck, did this poor boy really not know how to control this unnamable pit in his stomach without a lighthearted quip?

Thoughts piled up and soon enough Richie couldn't keep it in. What came out wasn't a graceful cascade of tears, or a confession of love that Eddie so wanted to hear. No, what came out was a rather mangled cry from Richie’s throat as he buried his face into the tiny boy.

"Fuck! Richie, I know you're worried and shit but Jesus do you realize what you're crying over? ….MY _ARM_ FUCKFACE! Move a little please!"

Richie shot up and apologized profusely, but Eddie chuckled and told him not to worry about it. He then tried to wipe away the tears off his best friend, but it turned out he was just making the situation worse though. He was only smudging the constant flow of tears on Richie's cheek. Eddie didn't know how to feel about the boy in front of him. After all of these years of friendship, he couldn't believe that something like this would be the reason Richie would shed tears for the first time in front of him. Hell, he thought it would have been better if he pulled off a lame-ass joke of, perhaps:

  1. "You must have fingered someone at the weirdest angle, Spaghetti Man!"



Or

  1. "You're making me _hard_ looking at ya Eds! You should've known contorted arms are my kink, you bastard!"



Actually, scratch the first one. Especially the second one! What the fuck was Eddie thinking? Just, scratch the thought of hearing Richie's jokes over seeing him cry. Eddie knew that this was real, and he was touched that his best friend cared about him so much that he was okay crying. Even if Eddie still doesn’t understand why his best friend’s sobbing in front him, he knew that it was okay. In addition, Richie was also really fucking pretty, sitting there so vulnerably. It was a side of the trashmouth that Eddie never thought he would see.

It didn't hit how touching this moment was to Eddie until he started hearing small sniffles coming from Richie. He couldn't help but smile at him, but at the same time he wanted this to stop. There was a tug within Eddie, begging to stop those tears and wiping it away just wasn't cutting it. He had an idea.

Pulling away from Richie’s embrace, Eddie began to suggest, "You shouldn't waste all those tears on me, you know. I feel like I'm more worried about you now than you are about-"

"BULLSHIT!" belted Richie, to which his voice immediately faltered again, "B-bullshit and you know it! Is this r-really how you're s-supposed to comfort someone?"

"Geez. Aren't you supposed to be comforting me?” Eddie stuck out his tongue, pointing to the oversized cast he was wearing. “I'm the one who sort of lost all feeling in their right arm.”

Richie paused for a second and pouted, "Y-you're right. Tough crowd."

"You're right, dumbass. I'm the crowd. Shouldn't you be entertaining me?”

Perfect. Eddie knew that trying to move the conversation into some lighthearted jokes would surely stop the tension between them.

"I… don't really want to. Would you be entertained if we just talk?"

SHIT. Did some alien inhabit Richie's body? Since when did something like this happen? At least the tears subsided, but Eddie could still see that the expression of Richie's eyes stayed the same. They were piercing and real. He really meant it, wanting to talk.

"If that's what you want, sure. I don't know how to start whatever we're going to talk about so just-"

"Lead the way? Sure. I'm not gonna beat around the bush with you Eds- I mean Eddie. I want to make some promises to you, and hopefully you will make some promises to me."

"Um, okay? You first.”

Richie hunched over, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, "I want to make sure we get out of this place. As soon as possible if we can, but we have to do it together. I promise I'll protect you, no matter what. I almost failed, and I sure as hell am not going to let it happen again. I don't give a damn what comes our way, and you're going to make it out unharmed. Because of Bill. Because of Beverly. Because of Ben. Because of Mike. Because of Stan. Because of me. What I wonder is if you're willing to hop out of Derry's dick together with me when the time comes. Will you?"

There was no silence to ruminate needed. Eddie answered immediately.

“Of course Richie. I promise! Do you have another script for that speech too? That was really touching."

"I sure as hell do," Richie grinned as he took out another crumpled index card and handed it to Eddie. Trashmouth was at it again, and Eddie couldn't help but laugh at what was scrawled on the card:

Fuck off, Spaghetti Man. Let me be poetic.

"You're the biggest piece of shit ever, Richie."

"Even bigger than your Mom?"

"Beep beep… and no, actually. Speaking of which, how long was that 'diversion' supposed to last for?"

"Enough for her ass to drive to your house and, legend has it, stay locked in the shower for the rest of eternity. Even then, she wouldn't have been able to clean it off still!"

"Oh my God. What the hell did you guys-"

"EDDIE!" a group of voices yelled enthusiastically, saving Richie from having to confess to Eddie what they all did to his mother. The two boys turned to see the rest of their friends. The Loser's Club was finally brought back together.

However, Eddie observed that they were covered in so much filth! Mud. Dust. White, gooey stuff? Was that whipped cream? Yuck. His thoughts were even filthier than what was covering his friends.

"Hey! I missed you guys! What happened? Richie said you guys created some 'diversion'. Did it work?"

"It's better to leave it to your imagination," Stan interjected, looking disgusted at the mud messing up his usually kempt curls.

"We just caused some havoc, that's all," Beverly chimed in, "Bet you wish you could've seen your mother's face after it all. She was fuming."

Bill laughed, "It wu-was the c-cherry on t-top."

"Whose plan was it though?" asked Eddie.

"You probably would have thought it was me, short stuff, but it was actually… drum roll please," Richie replied. Everyone but Eddie slapped on their thighs until he pointed his fingers to Mike. "This beautiful work of art's idea!"

"What?! No way! You out of all people Mike? Explain yourself!"

"I mean, I live in a farm. There's… a lot of mess I thought of bringing," Mike shrugged nonchalantly.

"You're all dumbasses, each and every one of you,” Eddie said with a smile, trying to contain his composure.

"But you still love us, right?" questioned Ben, smiling at the boy with the broken arm.

"Of course I do, everyone come here. I want the biggest, most AMAZING hug from each and every one of you."

"Even with all of the literal shit we're covered in?" Stan scoffed.

Eddie paused, and then he decided that a moment like this shouldn't be ruined

"I'll just take a shower immediately and bask myself in top quality soap for the rest of my life. Come here, you losers."

* * *

 

Once Eddie finished his anecdote, Richie sat with his mouth slightly agape, and his body unusually still. Instead of talking, he was listening. A rarity. Then, the side of his lips quivered, an unreadable expression on his mouth turning into a smirk. Suddenly, he busted out laughing.

“I can’t believe you remembered everything down to the smallest detail! And you really thought broken arms were my kink? You’re too much!”

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down abashed, “If anything, it’s your fault. It was all word vomit, and I wonder who influenced me?”

“Oh come on Spaghetti Man, you love me.”

“I highly doubt it.”

Richie sticks out his tongue, “I’m going to get you to confess sometime soon, trust me. Anyway, I wanna talk about what you just told me.”

“What about it?” Eddie perked up, his full attention now on the man sitting beside him.

“It’s about the reason why I cried for you the first time. I’m going to try and explain the why for each and every time.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and a small trace of a smile appeared on his face, “You sound like a professional therapist or something along the lines of it.”

“I guess I am, but at least he’s free! Anyway, you wanna dive right in? Want to know the answers tucked inside the mind of this sensual, sensitive man?”

“Guess I have no choice,” Eddie shrugs, trying to hide his excitement.

Richie took a deep breath, and tried to hide the fidgeting he always exhibited. He chose to cross his arms, hiding the tapping of his fingers across his back. He didn’t want to screw this up, and he needed to think about it all. There should be no holding back though, this was his best friend anyway. They’ve been through hell and back, confiding all of their secrets, so why was he thinking so hard?

Richie shook his head, and decided to spit it out, throwing out any chance of an elegant confession, “You suddenly meant something to m-“

“What do you mean suddenly? Are you saying that I didn’t mean anything befo-“

“JESUS EDS! WHY-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Annoyed, Richie furrows his brows, trying to contain his emotions, “Sorry Eddie. Anyway. No, you meant something to me before. What I’m trying to say is that I realized how much of a dumbass I was before. I realized… you were…”

Richie couldn’t think of what to say to continue his thoughts. They were all running around in all directions that he was halted to a stop. Panic began to settle in. He started to shake, obviously his nerves had taken control. Eddie cautiously approached the taller man.

“Hey… Richie what’s wrong? You didn’t have improvise the most spectacular show for me. Just spit it out.”

“Maybe I _could_ if my thoughts could get its fucking act together,” muttered Richie, shaking his head shamefully. He looked up to see Eddie in thought, pensively gazing into his frenzied eyes.

“Richie, this is _not_ meant to be condescending in any way, shape, or form, but do you want to write it down? So you can, as you said, ‘get your fucking act together’?”

It was as if a flash of lightning hit Richie. What was once dread had turned into passion. As always, Eddie was able to spark that in Richie.

“Hell YEAH Spaghetti Man!” Richie yelled. However he realized that there were some problems about this suggestion, “Wait, we are encased in darkness though. Where the hell could I find the pen and pencil?”

Eddie smirked, “Didn’t you listen to me earlier? You’re still in your hotel room, dumbass. Everything’s sort of different. Like one of those windows where someone can see you yet you can’t see them… what are they called again?”

“A one-way mirror?” Eddie nodded at Richie’s suggestion, “Look who’s the genius now!”

The small man rolled his eyes, “Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, like I was saying, you can’t see everything, but it’s still there. You’re blocked from seeing clearly because your eyes can only see this world. It’s like you switched dimensions. You can see this… weird limbo state. But that doesn’t mean you _are_ in it. You’re still in your hotel room. The only thing that’s different is what you can see. You and me, we’re existing on the same space, just in alternate universes.”

“Holy shit. Why didn’t you major in astrophysics or something like that? You’re a genius!” Richie said, dumbfounded.

A faint blush appeared on Eddie’s cheeks, “It’s… I don’t know how I knew that. Don’t praise me.”

“Awww look at Spaghetti Man! He’s blushing!”

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Anyway mate, we gotta get crackin’!” Richie began to talk in a poor Australian accent, “Help me out Eddie. I know there’s a crumpled paper in the desk stand and a pen in my backpack. It’s in its natural habitat.”

Richie couldn’t help but notice the mischievous look Eddie was giving him, “Alright, alright. First, stand up.”

The slender man stood up reluctantly, knowing full well that he no choice but to follow Eddie’s instructions.

“Perfect. Next, keep walking,” Eddie continued. “Don’t worry, just keep walking. That’s a good pace! Keep walking…”

And that’s when Richie crashed violently into something, a loud _phwack_ emitting from whatever surface he hit. He cursed to himself, knowing that Eddie would be fucking around like that. The hypochondriac was almost tearing up from laughing too hard, “And what you hit, I assume, is the wall of your room. Remember, you can’t see, but you can feel, Trashmouth! You find it. You don’t need my help.”

“You fucking asshole! I hate you!” Richie spurted out at his best friend, although with no malice in his tone.

“I don’t care! Just get on your knees and search,” Eddie responded, doubling over at this point from all the laughing.

Richie sighed, accepting his fate for once. He kneeled down and started feeling around the darkness. At first the only thing he could identify was the uneven, ridged cement floors, but then his fingers bumped into a taller object. He grasped onto it, noticing its smoother texture, and noted it as the wooden desk he needed to find. The man began to feel upward, grazing his fingers until he found the knob a few feet above, to which he pulled gently. To his relief, he found a crumpled sheet of loose-leaf paper, which he snatched quickly. He then walked over to Eddie to give it to him.

“Hey Eddie, I don’t get why I can see this, although it’s technically in my world. Me seeing it is like saying it’s in your world. Care to explain?”

The small phantom sat upright, pensive. Richie plopped onto the room’s bed, waiting for an answer. Usually, he would interrupt, but there was a voice in him whispering to let his best friend think. It was out-of-character, but much needed.

After a couple of minutes, Eddie finally spoke, “This is all speculation, got it Trashmouth? If I’m wrong, don’t give me hell for it,” Richie nodded attentively, letting Eddie continue. “Wow no interruption? Someone’s interested. So, we’re trying to get me out of this, limbo state right? Maybe the things that we can see in this universe are things that will help me get released from here-“

“So that’s why you can see me,” Richie interrupted, much to Eddie’s dismay, “Because I can help you.”

“Exactly,” Eddie replied, with a glint of annoyance that Richie could see in his eyes.

“Sorry for stealing your spotlight, hun,” the taller man teased. “But lemme finish this part. So that means this paper and pen we can potentially see is the key for me to communicate why I cried, because I’m a dumbass who talks before thinking. I really need to think for once, huh Eds?”

“Yeah. You do Trashmouth, and will you _please_ stop calling me that?”

“Sorry Eddie, and I will,” Richie smirked, “Not.”

“Ugh! Will you just find the pen so we can get this first reason out of the way?” Eddie begged.

“You want to get rid of me that quickly?” Richie dramatically pouted, turning away from the man sitting next to him.

Eddie became flustered, “N-no that’s not why! I’m just… curious,” he then waited for Richie to turn back for their eyes to lock, “No, I love spending time with you. Isn’t that why we can see each other? Because you hold such an importance to my life that I need your help to save me?”

Richie was taken aback from what the ghost had confessed, but he was right. Why else would they be able to talk for the last time? Eddie needed Richie, and he wasn’t going to disappoint him. Not after what happened between them before.

“O-of course,” he managed to reply, “Let’s… find the pen now shall we?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, letting Richie get back to feeling around the small room. He was searching for the sensation of nylon: scratchy yet durable. Again, he felt the solid floor for what seemed like ages, until he could feel what he wanted. The lumps of nylon led his fingers to a cold, metallic surface. It was small, and Richie asserted it as the zipper. He pulled, discovering a pen seemingly floating in the black abyss. He grabbed it, noticing that something softer was encasing it: a pencil case. The man unzipped it and quickly retrieved the pen, running back to Eddie.

“Sorry for the wait there, Eds. Let’s get this going.”

“Okay, but please stop calling me that, Richie.”

Richie decided not to reply, and turned his attention to the paper and pen sitting on his bed. He took the pen in hand, and began to scribble out his feelings.

You mean the world to me.

Too vague, Richie decided to scratch it out.

 ~~ You mean the world to me. ~~ Something felt different. Why would I not cry because your arm got broken?

Richie knew why, it’s because he hides negative feelings through jokes. He knew full well that if another Loser broke their arm, he would tease them. Maybe that’s why Eddie thought Richie’s possible jests in his story. He decided to cross that out too. However, what he just scribbled out sparked a new road that Richie decided to take.

 ~~You meant the world to me.~~ Something felt different. ~~Why would I not cry because your arm got broken?~~ Remember that time when I told you why I hide my feelings? The jokes, right? I couldn’t make one when you broke your arm. Maybe it’s because I love you.

Whoa. That’s a little out of the blue. Richie decided not to say that. He doesn’t want to scare Eddie away.

 ~~You meant the world to me.~~ Something felt different. ~~Why would I not cry because your arm got broken?~~ Remember that time when I told you why I hide my feelings? The jokes, right? I couldn’t make one when you broke your arm. ~~Maybe it’s because I love you.~~ Maybe it’s because I realized I care for you, a lot. Differently than the others, which I feel kinda bad about but you get the point.

Richie cared for Eddie so much, so that’s why his hands began to tremble when he handed him the crumpled piece of paper. He was hoping what he wrote would be enough, and although it was just a couple of sentences, Richie knew there were essays he could write that wouldn’t be able to explain why his heart was beating the way it always did when Eddie was by him. Nervously waiting for Eddie to finish reading what he scribbled, Richie sat silently, unable to feel his fingers.

The numbness went away when Eddie finally responded, his left hand palming his cheek, “I… wow.”

Richie hoped that the man sitting by him could come up with more of a response, so he waited again.

“You really had to write that down? Was it that hard to simply tell me you cared for me?”

“E-excuse me? Was it that hard for you to not realize I care for you?” Richie bickered back, “And to answer your question: Hell yes it is! All these thoughts… I can’t even English correctly sometimes.”

“You’re right. You got me. Either way, I’m touched. Thank you for caring for me, Richie,” Eddie responded, trying to conceal a smile yet failing miserably.

Richie cleared his throat, embarrassed about his little outburst, “No problem, Spaghetti Man.”

“You’re the dumbest person I know,” the smaller man rolled his eyes, “But I did mean what I said.”

“Bless your heart,” Richie responded with a lackluster southern drawl, “You’re fixin’ to the next story now, right puddin’?”

A blush arose from Eddie’s cheeks. He then sighed, knowing that the conversation can’t be steered any other way, “You’re right, Richie. Ready?”

Laughing, Richie replied, “You know I’m always ready to see tea spilled.”

* * *

**_Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head_ **

**_Was it all a disguise, like Junior High?_ **

**_Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction_ **

**_Now, where am I? My fading supply_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pack up your bags, everyone. It starts to get bumpy after this!


	3. The Second Time: Never Felt Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie looks back at why he ran away, which had made Richie cry. In the present, it leads to an unfortunate chain of events because of guilt and sorrow.

The second time Eddie saw Richie cry was when he was confronted about leaving Derry. He didn’t know how to bring it up. It was inevitable, however, and Eddie didn’t regret running away. He had to escape from this place. To Eddie, this small town brought back anxiety right on a platter to him through the memories of screaming matches with his mother, and the traumatic experiences against the monster in the sewers.

Although thinking of this tiny, little dot of a map in Maine drove Eddie insane, there was always one thing that brought him back to his senses. They were his friends, the people he stayed loyal to from the beginning. Nonetheless, after what happened at the Neibolt house, it was difficult to balance his relationship with them and his mother. Everything went to hell once Eddie broke his arm, and after hearing from his friends about what they did to Sonia at the hospital, he somehow fell deeper into a grave he never dug for himself.

It began when he saw his mother return to his hospital room the next day. There was an unspoken tension between them the second he heard the loud crack of her heels hit the floor. Her facial expression said it all: furrowed brows, wrinkles sunken across her forehead, and her tight lips somehow even more constrained. She was trying her best to keep her composure, and Eddie froze. His mother’s outbursts did not help with his constant worrying, and he knew anything could trigger Sonia Kaspbrak. He kept his posture upright, eyes fixated on his mother with the upmost attention.

“Hi mommy,” Eddie whispered, trembling, “I haven’t seen you in a little while, how are you doing?”

The clacking of Sonia’s shoes grew louder and heightened in pace, making the young boy’s heart beat faster. If anything, maybe she could smell the dirt that had covered his face after he had hugged his friends. However he tried scrubbing it off as best as he could, but maybe it wasn’t enough. The nostrils on her flat nose were flaring, and Eddie wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. He didn’t know what to expect, and all he could do was wait to see how he would be punished.

What was expected didn’t happen though, for Sonia sat on his bed, turning to her son. Her furious expression had seemingly faded, although Eddie noticed her chest puffing up and down sporadically. He wasn’t off the hook yet, and his mother hadn’t replied to his question.

Eddie tried again, “Mommy, are you okay?”

His mother sighed, shaking her head, “I’m just glad to see you’re okay, Eddie-bear. Can you give your Mom a hug? She missed you.”

“Okay. Just be careful about my arm,” he replied, letting Sonia pull him in for an embrace. She stayed for a couple seconds longer than Eddie was comfortable with, but he didn’t resist when she held him tighter. It was only a little more than a day since she had last seen him, and it frustrated him about how she still held a tight rein across his neck. However, he could never seem to form sentences that could convey his feelings, for it all shriveled up before it escaped his mouth. Suddenly, he could feel his mother’s stubby fingers press against his back, clutching his frail body against hers, pushing the air out of his lungs. It seemed he couldn’t breathe.

“Mommy,” Eddie choked, “M-my aspirator.”

“You smell of dirt, dear,” Sonia commented into his ear, “Has someone been through your room? Someone… unclean?”

“N-no,” he shakily replied, adrenaline running through his nerves. His response that came out of his mouth was something he immediately regretted.

The stout woman’s grasp on him grew even tighter, “You’re lying, sweetie. You know you are.”

Eddie whimpered, tears streaming down his cheek.

He didn’t know what to do as his mother’s hands left his back and found its way to his soft cheeks. He noticed there was a foul smell coming from the dirt between her nails. She must have not scrubbed under them from yesterday. They carefully caressed his cheek while Sonia mumbled, “Tell me the truth, Eddie. It’s best for the both of us.”

Unable to respond, Eddie shook his head and pushed his mother away, breaking eye contact with a small yelp. Sonia Kaspbrak looked at her son with contempt as she paced the room, her heels never missing a beat with every step she took. Her eye caught the flower vase sitting beside Eddie, and she made her way to it.

“You said no one has been to your room Eddie. Why is this here? Who’s been in your room?” his mother questioned, “And there’s dirt all over it. You do know how many pathogens are in each speck of dirt, yes sweetie?”

“Mommy it’s not what you think!” Eddie cried.

She took the vase in her hand, a look of rage spread across her face.

“I think it is,” she barked back, throwing it onto the floor, a loud crack emitting from each crevice of the walls in the room. Eddie covered his face, trying to hide his tears.

“I-I must’ve been asleep when the nurse put it by my bedside,” he weakly defended.

“Then what’s this?” Sonia interjected, picking up a folded piece of looseleaf from the floor.

Eddie was confused, “Where did that come from?” he asked.

“Let’s find out,” she responded, opening it to discover a messy note written on it. Eddie saw that whatever was on it finally triggered his mother, as she began to shake all over uncontrollably.

She crumpled up the paper, throwing it at her son while bellowing, “Learn to get some friends with manners the next time around, will you?!”

Eddie feebly caught it, the ball bouncing across each hand until he clasped it with both. He quickly unfolded it to see a note that made him both proud and annoyed at the same time, two emotions that he knew too well with his friends:

Sonia Kaspbrak, 

If you’re reading this, this means you broke Eds’ vase. That means you get to read a final note from all of us. It’s simple!

Fuck you.

It was signed by each Loser with penmanship that really emulated each of them perfectly. From the chicken scratch handwriting from Richie, to the quirky yet original loops from Beverly, or the handcrafted perfection from Stan, Eddie couldn’t hold the smile he had, even while his mother stood fuming in front of him.

“Are you listening to me sweetie?” Sonia called out, her teeth gritting, “Get. Better. Friends. Even better actually, follow my directions for once and don’t hang out with them. You can’t even stay clean for your own health.”

This broke Eddie’s daze, and he looked up to see that his mother was dragging him out of his room, yet he still kept the piece of paper tucked within his hand, treasuring it. It brought him inner strength because his friends were brave to stand up against his mother. Why couldn’t he do it? He needed to find the bravery inside of him, but until then he knew he wasn’t going to let go of any of them. The Loser’s Club was all he needed, and he promised himself that he would only pretend to follow his mother’s orders and that they would keep him in Derry, Maine.

To believe he fucked up so quickly.

//

Eddie didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean to mess up in just a week’s span. It’s quite a load upon a thirteen year old boy to discover that their whole life has been a lie though. He figured that out after visiting the pharmacy to get his monthly dosage. The young boy was waiting against the counter when Greta, a school bully that he noticed pushed Beverly around, approached him, a smirk on her face.

“It’s bullshit, you know, your medications,” she mentioned casually, leaning just a little too close for Eddie’s liking.

He didn’t understand what she meant, so he asked her what she was trying to insinuate. Greta told him that he had been taking placebos all of his life, and the revelation shocked and angered him. Eddie didn’t use this information until he got a call from Bill, his usual calm voiced masked with fear. The stuttering boy confessed that Beverly had gotten kidnapped by It, sending chills up Eddie’s spine. He knew he had to band up with his friends in order to successfully save their friend, but it meant he had to stand up to his mother. He thought of an opportunity for this confrontation, but once he hung up, it had already arisen.

His mother approached him once the phone left his ear, and she reminded him about how he was supposed to follow through with her orders, to which he defiantly resisted. With the pills in his hand, Eddie cried out that they were gazebos, and in fact bullshit. He then threw it on the ground, letting them spill across the floor. Sonia manically started to pick up the pills as the young boy left their house, walking to Bill’s instead.

Eddie knew that this would sever their relationship, but in that moment, he did not care.

//

Four years after rescuing Beverly in the sewers, Eddie’s life was falling apart. Even though he was a senior in high school, his mother had turned from passive-aggressively controlling him to downright using aggression. Every little mistake he made would result in a screaming match between the both of them, but this certain day’s spiral of events became the last straw for Eddie. What was a small slip up turned into the usual argument about how Eddie needed to find better friends, and that they were influencing him for the worst.

However, what was different was that Sonia Kaspbrak decided to pick her small son up and shake him around like a ragdoll, berating him over his incompetence. What then followed was a loud crash as he fell on the floor, his right wrist twisting underneath the pressure of his chest.

Eddie cried in distress, holding his hand close, and he gave a final look at his mother as she began to realize what she had done.

“Eddie-bear, you know it was an accident. I was doing it for your own go-“

He then slammed the door, never looking back.

//

After every argument with Sonia, Eddie Kaspbrak would always go into his room and lock it. However, since he had walked out the front door, the young man didn’t know what to do until a voice in the back of his head urged him to see a friend. He went to the first name that popped up in his head: Richie Tozier.

Eddie stumbled many times as he ran to Richie’s house, the throbbing in his wrist not helping. Since it was left flailing with every step the hypochondriac took, the only thing running through his mind was the aching pain he felt. Luckily, he had walked to the other’s house so many times that it became a habit. He didn’t need to think about it.

Once Eddie reached Richie’s house, he scurried to his window, tapping gently and hoping for a quick response. He was surprised to see that in a split second, the window was pushed up and revealed a young man with a charming smile on his face.

At this point, Eddie noticed a change in Richie’s appearance. He was always scrawny and taller than him, but Eddie hoped he would gain a little weight to fill his oversized Hawaiian shirt and not grow so he could finally be the taller one, but the exact opposite happened. Standing at about 5’11, Richie Tozier and his bony, awkward limbs waved a welcoming hello to Eddie as he pulled him into his room, chuckling as he embraced him.

“Hey, Eds. Missed ya! Do you-“

Eddie cut off Richie with a cry of pain, internally thanking Richie for noticing the tears running down his cheek.

“Holy shit. Oh my god. I’ll get an ice pack, stay put, you trooper.”

Richie scurried out of his room while Eddie took a seat on his bed, trying to calm himself down by breathing in and out at a timed pace. Nevertheless, it didn’t conceal the running thoughts in his brain. He could’ve cut out a nerve, which would mean amputation. He would have to live a life out on the streets, a worthless nobody who can’t do shit because his dominant hand was cut off. Suddenly, he could feel his lungs tighten, and his breathing exercise coming to a halting stop. Eddie began to choke, his asthma emerging.

Luckily, Richie arrived with an ice pack and a sling in one hand with an aspirator in the other, “I’m surprised you didn’t die from an asthma attack while running to my house, let’s get you all fixed up now, okay?”

He tossed Eddie the aspirator, which he snatched with his left hand and quickly sprayed it two times into his mouth. The smaller man sighed with relief, and watched as Richie tenderly placed the ice pack on his wrist. He then attached the sling across his arm, saying in a gentle tone, “Keep your arm there for the next couple of days, just like good times, okay?”

Eddie nodded vigorously, “Thank you, Richie. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem, Eddie. You can stay the night if you want. My mom’s out drinking tonight and my Dad’s basically deaf. He won’t hear a thing,” Richie suggested with a smile on his face.

“I’d like that,” Eddie agreed, smiling back.

//

It was around midnight when Eddie woke up encased in darkness. He was covered in blankets, and the only thing he could hear were the soft breaths coming from the man sleeping next to him. Eddie shifted, getting up and staring at Richie. He realized that he must have passed out after agreeing with Richie, and noticed that he had tucked him into his bed. He blushed, and noticed that the breathing coming from the young man had stopped.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Eddie whispered, earning himself a facepalm for saying that out loud.

“Now you did,” came a groggy response from the man sitting next to him.

Eddie began to apologize as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, telling him to quiet down.

“It’s no worries,” Richie explained, “Really. I’m glad you’re okay and not dead.”

Eddie snickered, “It’s kinda funny. Isn’t it the other way around? You’re the one always running to me because of your antics or you ranting about your problems. I usually help you out. Now look at you, Nurse Trashmouth,” he pointed to the sling he was wearing, “You don’t even need the Bachelor’s degree. You took good care of me.”

Richie became red from head to toe, “Yeah I tried my best,” he then scooted closer to Eddie a smirk written on his face, “Now you gotta take care of me.”

“Wait? How?” Eddie stuttered, “Like… nursing? You know I’m shit with that! With the germs and all I-“

“No, Eds, you dummy. Tell me what happened! That’ll care for my heart that you wounded, Eds. You filled me with woe!” Richie cried dramatically, clutching his chest with a fake sob.

The small man rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay. First, don’t call me that. Second, I will, but just so you know you better not cut me off because this is serious talk.”

Richie nodded, letting Eddie continue, “My mom broke my wrist-“

“Holy shit. She’s gonna catch these hands, she’s gonna-“

“Shhhh Trashmouth, let me continue,” Eddie pressed his finger on Richie’s lips, forcing him to shut his mouth, “Better. Anyway, we were arguing about the same old. The Losers are apparently not fit for me, but it’s not even like that anymore with Beverly gone to Oregon. It’s not the same, but Mom’s still hammering about how I need to find new friends, but you all mean the world to me. I’d go to hell and back for each and every one of you and she doesn’t understand that.”

Richie grabbed onto Eddie’s finger and removed it from his mouth, “How does she not understand that? Chums before mums amiright?”

“Yeah yeah, I don’t know. Anyway, I was yelling at her about how she keeps trying to control my life, and she snapped. It wasn’t the usual snap of throwing pots and pans around the kitchen, but more of the ‘I want to kill you’ snap. She put her hands around my neck, Rich. It was… so fucking scary,” Eddie paused, seeing the fingers on his left hand tremble violently, “I pushed her away, but I slipped during it, and I fell the wrong way, leaving to what happened to my wrist.”

The young man sitting next to him put his arm around Eddie, giving a reassuring look, but not responding.

Eddie continued, “So that’s why I ran here. I don’t want to see her face ever again. That’s abuse, and I’m done with that shit. I don’t care if she’s my mom. No one deserves to get treated like that. Ever.”

“You’re right,” responded Richie, stroking his fingers against Eddie’s shoulders, “You and me versus the fucking worst for parents, huh?”

And in that moment, Eddie saw Richie’s eyebrows rise, giving the eyes behind the big-rimmed glasses a look of sheer madness, “Wait, do you remember our promise years back Spaghetti Man?”

He paused to think about it, and then remembered that unforgettable day in the hospital. Eddie looked at Richie and smiled, “Of course I do, dipshit. We should, as you said, ‘hop off Derry’s dick together’.”

“You’re a genius! We can do that later on tonight. You and me, Eddie. You and me.”

A smile formed across Eddie’s lips, “This is the craziest idea I’ve heard from you, Richie. Somehow, I’m not opposed to it.”

“Hell yeah. Let’s be impulsive teenagers and pack up now. You can use some of my clothes, also I have some money underneath my mattress. Take that out and let’s get on the road after a couple hours more sleep okay?”

“What time should I set your alarm to?” Eddie asked.

“How about 4 o’clock? No one’s awake then, not even me, and I’m always awake.”

“That makes no sense, Richie.”

“Does it have to?”

A sigh came out of Eddie’s lips, “I’m too tired to argue. Let’s just pack up, sleep, and get going, okay?”

“Anything for you, Eds,” cooed Richie.

“Quit calling me that!”

//

Eddie shot back up from his short slumber, silently writhing in pain from his wrist just to find his eyes gaze at the alarm clock to see it read 3:45AM. His eyes wandered to the work of the two young men’s impulsivity: two bags filled to the brim with Richie’s clothing and a small paper folder with a stash of cash. The thought of what was to come made him forget he was in pain in the first place.

He looked at the man next to him, curled up in a ball under the sheets and sleeping soundly, his steady snores giving a feeling of warmth in Eddie’s heart. He thought about brushing his hand against Richie’s fingers that were sticking out from under the covers, but thought it would wake him up. The man needed a couple more minutes of rest, for an unpredictable adventure was waiting for them, and he needed as much sleep as he could get.

The smaller man quietly slipped out of Richie’s bed, letting his toes touch the floor with no sound, and he paced the bedroom floor, pensive. He was beginning to overthink the situation. What would happen with the other Losers once they were gone? It was hard enough without Bev, but he imagined the other Losers’ perspective of no Richie and Eddie. He knew deep down that it would break their hearts, and he was afraid for both Bill and Stan especially. The four of them were friends since elementary school, and hearing that he and Richie had slipped off without them could lead to jealousy, maybe even contempt.

It would be better off for them all if it was just Eddie who slipped away from the picture. He realized he didn’t want to drag Richie into his messy life. He was his own individual, and Richie had a life ahead of him that was going to be different from his. Eddie thought that Richie wanted spontaneity, to perform, to be shining lights that lit up the dark sky. Eddie knew he needed security, and although he was running away from all he’s ever known, he knew deep down that wherever he ran off to he would want to settle down. At this point, Eddie and Richie were stopped by a fork in the road, and Eddie believed in the end that the other would be unhappy taking the route Eddie yearned for.

And it was because of this that Eddie decided to take his bag and the stash of money Richie left for him and quickly opened the window, but before he could step out, he heard covers shuffling.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” a dangerously quiet voice asked, making Eddie’s heart stop and his breath quicken in pace. He turned to see Richie without his glasses on, seeing him put the pieces together through his eyes, for they widened with betrayal.

“Eddie… what are you doing?” Richie whispered again, waiting for a response from the man standing by the window.

He didn’t know what to say, for any response would result in an argument. He was cornered, and decided to let his mouth do the talking, “I’m so sorry Richie. It’s better this way.”

Richie threw himself out of the covers, bolting himself towards the smaller man, “It’s not, Eddie. What about our promise?”

His eyesight must have been so poor, that while he approached Eddie he bumped into everything imaginable, knocking down his lamp and notebooks, sending them flying off his desk. Eddie stood his ground, gazing up at Richie, noticing the glistening sadness appearing underneath his eyelashes, and listening to the ruckus that the other man was creating.

“Why won’t you answer me?” Richie choked, voice wavering, “Our p-promise Eds, w-we were gonna take over the world, you and me.”

Once Richie took a final step towards Eddie, the latter saw the tears trickling down the taller man’s cheeks, a grief-stricken look painted across his face, “That’s all I had ever wanted.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, he made his best friend cry again, but this time it was different. His tears weren’t shed through worry, they were falling because of what he was doing. He couldn’t conceal the guilt festering in his chest, and he turned away from Richie, clutching his shirt as though his life depended on it, “It’s all I ever wanted too, but it can’t be that way.”

Sadness turned quickly into anger. The tears on Richie’s face continued pouring even more as he raised his voice, “Why can’t it? Give me one good reason why it can’t!”

The smaller man shook his head, sighing, “Because you have a life to live, Rich. I don’t want to drag you down,” he then stood taller to face the other man, their faces only inches apart, “Also, think about our other friends. How would they react learning that two of their closest friends recently dropped off the face of the earth? It’s better this way, and you know it.”

“No! No it’s not!” Richie cried, “You’re so selfish. You can’t leave me behind, Eddie. We were supposed to leave this hellhole together, we were-“

His speech was cut off by the slurred screaming coming from behind the door, “Rich…Richieee! You should’a shut the fuck up!” They then heard the loud slamming of her barefoot feet hit the floor.

“My mom,” the taller man spat out.

A distracted Richie turned away from Eddie, and the latter knew it was now or never. He snatched his bag, making his way out of the house, looking back one time to see the bedroom door fly open. Eddie was aching all over. His twisted wrist was pounding, and his arm was numb from being in the splint for so long. Not to mention, he had a massive headache from the yelling coming from a yard away. However, none of this came close to the overwhelming throbbing he felt in his heart.

Through guilt, through suffering, and through acceptance, Eddie decided to turn away. He knew leaving was for the best, but ultimately it would never feel right. Limping to his next destination, Eddie turned up at the pitch black sky, hoping to calm down the hurt all over by repeatedly muttering a simple phrase:

“I’m sorry Richie. I’m sorry Richie. I’m sorry Richie. I’m…”

* * *

 

The hotel room was silent other than the constant muttering of “I’m sorry Richie” escaping Eddie’s lips. Richie saw that the smaller man was looking at his right wrist as though it were broken. For what seemed like an eternity, they sat together in a tense silence, letting them soak in the small ghost’s recount of what happened. Even after all this time, Eddie continued mumbling those few words, and Richie couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just… shut up Eds. It’s okay. I’m not pissed about it anymore.”

Eddie didn’t stop, and he began to rock back and forth, his right hand trembling.

Richie slammed on the bedpost, “SHUT THE HELL UP EDDIE. IT’S OKAY.”

He sighed in relief to see that Eddie deadened in pace, looking up with the most pitiful eyes. His heart stopped for just a second.

“It’s not,” Eddie murmured, “We missed out on so much.”

“We might have, but now’s not the time to bitch about it,” the latter pointed out, “You and I are here now for a reason, yes? I’m supposed to tell you why I cried for you.”

The small phantom raised his head, nodding. Richie saw that the usual tenderness on his eyes were gone, replaced by a blank expression. He never saw this side of Eddie, and was confused and heartbroken once his mouth opened to speak.

“Write it down,” Eddie ordered, “I want to get over this shitty feeling as quickly as possible.”

Richie chuckled, masking the spark of pain he felt from Eddie’s words, “Let’s get down to it, then.”

He took out the pen, letting the words jumbled in his brain even out and make sense on paper. The confession was simple at this point, Eddie wanted to get out of here. Richie didn’t need to stall their final moments together, so he wasted no time scribbling out his thoughts.

I like you.

Richie frowned at what was written. It wasn’t true.

I like _d_ you.

Better. He knew he didn’t like Eddie, especially with the way he was acting. Richie nonchalantly passed the note to Eddie, who scanned it quickly and nodded in affirmation.

“I should have expected that,” the ghost commented, “it makes sense anyway. Why else would you want to run away with just me?”

Richie looked down at the man sitting beside him, and saw that the crevices on his face conveyed guilt, not passiveness. He internally berated himself as Eddie stood up from the bed, turning away from him.

“I’m sorry I got you into this mess. I deserve to be stuck here,” he began.

He made his way around the bed, still refusing to face Richie, “We missed out on so much, and it’s all my fault. You may have forgiven me, but I can’t forgive myself just yet. Decades were lost, Richie. I need to be punished somehow. Live your life, and I’ll float here.”

Richie was frozen as he saw his best friend walk away into the darkness. He bolted upright, attempting to chase after Eddie.

“You don’t deserve this Eds! We have unfinished busin-,” Richie howled in pain, crashing into seemingly nothing. He then remembered that he was stuck in his hotel room, and Eddie was somewhere he wasn’t.

Richie pounded on the wall of his room.

“I,“ _thwack_

“Will,” _thwack_

“Find,” _thwack_

“You!” Richie yelled, finishing off his outburst with a final pound on the wall before he yelped in pain. He watched helplessly as Eddie turned from a figure into a dot, finally disappearing into the pixelated, dreary universe he was stuck in. With that, Richie began to see again. Eddie’s disappearance broke the connection, and thus Richie discovered he was against the moldy corner of his room, curled up in a ball.

He didn’t know if that meant his connection with Eddie broke, but he did not hesitate to try and secure it again. Richie stood up, and made his way to the only plausible place Eddie could be in: his untimely deathbed, floating in the gray water of the sewers.

* * *

 

**_"Did you get enough love, my little dove?_ **

**_Why do you cry?_ **

**_And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best_ **

**_Though it never felt right_ **

**_My little Versailles."_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, it became clear that what I had in mind wouldn't fit with the actual timeline, so it's now tagged as non-compliant with the canon along with some other nifty tags. In addition, I edited the earlier chapters because of spelling and grammatical errors.
> 
> Next time: Richie tries to find Eddie in the sewers. Will he succeed or will he be met with just a dead body?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! All mistakes are mine, and kudos, comments, and suggestions are greatly appreciated! :)


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